


Well and Truly

by ingridmatthews



Category: Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Genre: Drama, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingridmatthews/pseuds/ingridmatthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Studio 60 - Matt and Danny are well and truly you-know-what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well and Truly

The headache that Matt wakes with is like none he's ever had before. He's not sure it qualifies as a hangover -- is eating twice the recommended daily dosage of Vicodin technically a _hangover_? For lack of a better term, he decides to leave it at that and besides, he's too busy clutching at his head and moaning in pain to debate the finer points of medical terminology.

The smell of eggs cooking fills his nostrils and he really needs to talk to the doctor about these side effects. There has to be a better class of drugs with a better class of hallucinations available and he's just about to reach for his cel when Danny peers in, holding a hot frying pan filled with steaming eggs.

"You alive?" he asks. His sleeves are rolled up and he's wearing the only oven mitt Matt owns. "Matt?"

Okay, the hallucination just improved. Slightly. "Do wishes count? Because I'm wishing I wasn't."

"Sorry. Are you hungry?"

There's a fuzz covering Matt's tongue that tastes a lot like a slab of rotten meat nestled in his grandmother's fur coat. He sticks it out and gingerly pokes it, hoping he didn't spend his drugged-out haze licking anything toxic. His gut automatically roils at the touch. "I'm thinking not," he gulps, swallowing the bile back down. "Do we have coffee?"

Danny shrugs wearily. "Because that will go down so much more easily."

"Think of it as a blood transfusion." Matt sits up, planting his feet on the floor. He looks down and notices he's still wearing his good pants and one sock, nothing else. Typical morning attire, and it takes an Herculean effort to rise and totter to the kitchen, but he makes it. For some reason he's wary of the chair, but once sitting at the table, he feels almost all right.

Except for the nagging feeling he's forgotten something. Something important.

Danny sets a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, its smell is just this side of heaven. "We're fucked."

Matt sniffs at the coffee before taking a long swig. It's hot and horrible, just the way he likes it. "Maybe we'll enjoy it."

"Enjoy it? Enjoy rebuilding something that should have been demolished before Bill Clinton's first Oval Office blow job? Enjoy taking over where better men than us have burned and crashed, on live TV? Enjoy working for that ... " Danny stopped mid-rant. He peers closely at Matt who is staring into his coffee like it's the most interesting thing in the world. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Yep. Looks like he's forgotten something and bluffing isn't going to cut it. Hope it isn't too big, but for some reason Matt thinks it might be. Huge, even. "Something happened last night, didn't it?"

"I'm calling your doctor," Danny declares suddenly. "Where's your phone? You need to get off that shit." He rises and heads to the bathroom. The sound of cabinets opening and closing fills the apartment. "Where is it?"

"Hey, my back hurts," Matt exclaims feebly. "I can't ... do whatever it is we're supposed to be doing if my back hurts."

"Got it." There's a sound of pills plopping into the toilet and a flushing noise follows. Danny reemerges with a defeated sigh, slumping down into the chair. "I can't believe I have the nerve to toss someone else's drugs out. I should be ashamed."

"Yes, you should," Matt agrees, as suddenly, a memory pops back. A single stark lone memory, but it's a doozy. "Oh, hey, wait ... you had a slip, didn't you?"

"Yeah."

Matt squints at him. "I asked all the pertinents, right? You're okay, you're back in meetings, everything good?"

A small smile quirks Danny's lips. "Yeah, you asked all that."

"Okay," Matt says, relieved he got that much right. The coffee hits his system and he gets another jolt of awareness. It's a story his brain is telling him, a strange story about a man who lost his mind and two guys who were bamboozled into taking a job that they didn't really want, but now that they had it, they were going to make the best of it. There was some other stuff in there, about one of his ex's and ... "Oh, Christ. We took the Studio 60 job, didn't we?" He pauses, letting the reality sink in. "We're fucked."

"Welcome back and yes, we are, but we'll pull it out. We always do," Danny says. His cel rings and he answers it. The conversation is in clipped monosyllables, until he flips it shut with an eye roll. "Jordan wants to know why we aren't down at the studio."

"Hope you told her to fuck off," Matt replies indignantly. He takes another gulp of coffee. "Who's Jordan?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake ..."

0o0o0o

On the set, Suzanne the PA is appropriately nervous. Matt appreciates that in an employee, trying not to think about how screwed up his line of work must be to want your workers bug-eyed and five minutes away from a nervous breakdown at all times. Keeps them on their toes, he likes to think and in television, if you're not on your toes, you're on your knees, or so Danny keeps reminding him.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asks breathlessly, as if the fate of the world hinged on Matt's fondness for cream over half-and-half. She bounces from foot to foot, waiting for an answer."Or do you like something else instead?" Whatever you want, I can get it."

"Whiskey. Neat," he replies, looking over the staff line-up. About half of them are going to have to go.

Thank God he's got Danny for that. He hates scenes that he doesn't write. Especially the emotional ones.

Suzanne blinks at him. "Whiskey." She's flummoxed, her headset quivering. "Neat means without ice, right? Although, I'm not sure we have the whiskey you like. I mean ... the liquor store is about a mile away and opens at eight, but ..."

"Do you know these people?" Matt asks, running his finger along a list of names he can't for the life of him figure out who they are or what they do. "Do you _like_ these people?"

Suzanne's eyes are bigger than saucers. There's a vein throbbing in her neck, an unusual sight in a woman so young. "I like everyone," she squeaks. Backing away, she almost trips over a wire. "I'll get you your drink."

She's off and running before he can call her back. "I don't think I like these people," he decides aloud, taking a pen from his pocket and "X"'ing his way through most of the names. "In fact, I i know /i I don't like these people."

Danny comes up and takes the sheet out of Matt's hand without warning. He scans it, shaking his head. "You want to fire the entire sound crew? That's original."

Matt shrugs. "They should have done that years ago."

"I'm going to have to sort this out, right?" Danny asks, rhetorically, of course. He stuffs the sheet into his jacket. "How much material do we have for the show so far?"

For this one, Matt is ready. Triumphantly, he pulls a script from his pocket and waves it in front of Danny. "First skit, right here. It's titled '4A'." He leans in to whisper conspiratorially in Danny's ear. "And I have it on good authority, it's a winner."

"Jesus Christ," Danny breathes, giving Matt that exasperated look he's pretty sure he couldn't live without seeing, at least once a day. "We're going to have to do better than that."

Around them, the morning chaos is finally kicking into full gear. The bedlam tickles the back of Matt's neck, making his skin gooseflesh with excitement ... his brain overload with possibilities. Could it be that he really missed this grind? Did Danny miss it, because if he did, he'd spent the past few years giving one of the best performances of his life lying about it. "We'll be fine. Remember what you said? You said we always pull it out."

"Great, except for one thing. I'm a damned liar."

Matt slings an arm around Danny's neck and steers him toward the dressing rooms. Suzanne is waiting for him in the wing, carefully cupping a shot glass of whiskey, filled to the brim. "I have your drink right here and ..."

They keep walking, right past her. Danny looks morose, but there are ways to cheer him up, Matt thinks. "Tonight, I'll stay over your place and cook the morning eggs, what do you say?"

"I say we're still fucked."

"But well-fed, my friend. We'll be well-fed."

0o0o0o

Matt is as good as his word, at least the part about staying over. It's hard to get out of bed anyway, at least when Danny's bare back is curled up against Matt's chest, warmer than summer. This is a part of their partnership they don't discuss anywhere because it really is no one's business and besides, it's part of the "creative dynamic" and God knows, you don't mess with the creative dynamic of a team like they are.

"We have a synergy," Matt told him that first time, right before going down on him. "Or, you know, whatever you call it."

Danny didn't disagree. He's been agreeable ever since, especially when Matt is sucking him and he can run his hands through Matt's messy hair, biting his lip as he arches into Matt's mouth, both of them silent for the time being. He returns the favor as Matt kneels on the bed and it's awkward and hot and Matt thinks that he's made it so far in life because he really doesn't care where he is, as long as Danny is with him.

Even in a potential career-killer like Studio 60.

He comes gasping Danny's name. He truly hopes he never did that while with Harriet, but he can't trust himself as far as he can throw himself when it comes to his mouth. It's been his salvation and his curse, ever since he learned how to use it. His writing has always been nothing more than thoughts unspoken; maybe that's why it strikes such a hard chord with everyone, driving them crazy and crazy with laughter at the same time.

At least that's what Danny told him once. And that's his life, right there. Things he says, things he writes and what Danny thinks about the things he says and writes. Nothing else, really, and as he collapses in Danny's waiting arms he's grateful for certain things that never change.

Even if they are well and truly ... i truly /i ... fucked.

0o0o0o

end


End file.
